


About Time

by anneapocalypse



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Injury, M/M, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that the fighting's over at last, Tucker and Wash really need to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for RvB Happy Hour for a prompt from cekaykc, who asked for Tuckington and “finally.” Originally posted on tumblr.

_We should’ve talked,_ was the last thing Tucker thought before he collapsed in the dirt with his blood pounding in his ears and biofoam stinging viciously in the laceration in his gut.

It hurts just to breathe when he wakes and for one surreal panicked moment he thinks he’s still lying in the dirt bleeding out, with his friends sprawled around him and Felix circling, ready to finish him off.

Instead his eyes struggle to focus in the sharp white light of a tiny hospital room, and from somewhere pretty close by he’s aware of the sound of someone breathing, someone who isn’t Sarge or Caboose or Donut.

Tucker pulls in a deep breath of his own, feels a tight jag of pain in his torso but his hands find bandages, not blood, and in the heavy quiet he can feel his own heart beat, strong and steady, and he hears movement in the bed beside his and turns to look.

Funny how it wasn’t that long ago that just Wash’s presence was grating on him, and now he goes heavy with relief to see him here.

Funny how fast the wrong person can become the right one.

 

The day after they yelled at each other about training and Tucker snapped that he just wanted his friend back, Wash got all quiet and said he was sorry. He was _sorry_. And Tucker didn’t even know what to say back but something changed after that. And the next afternoon when he was feeling fucked up about Church some more and climbed up on the roof to sulk by himself, Wash came up after him and didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. They just fuckin’ sat there for like a half hour in silence until they heard a crash from below and had to go check on Caboose.

From then on Wash just had a way of showing up when he was feeling like shit and Tucker started to understand what Caboose meant about Wash making everything better almost immediately.

Fuck, he can’t explain it any better than that, but when he finally kissed Wash, up against the wall of the base with the reddish sunlight slanting in through the open door, it just sort of made sense.

But things were so quiet. Well, not _quiet_. Tucker made plenty of noise and Wash wasn’t exactly silent either. But they just… fell into this thing. Days like usual, lifts and sprints and obstacle courses. Nights in the back of the base frantic and messy, falling on each other afterwards sweaty and breathless, and Tucker found it really easy to just drift off like that, still half-tangled up in each other’s limbs. By the time he woke up, Wash was always long up and gone.

 

Both awake, their eyes meet across the tiny hospital room. Hardly a double, really. Somebody had the presence of mind to keep them together. Tucker wonders if they should thank Carolina for that, or Church. Maybe both.

For now, they look at each other and smile and Tucker can see that bone-deep relief he feels echoed in the way Wash’s tired gray eyes meet his.

“Tucker,” Wash says, glancing around the room before giving his head a slight, pained shake. “Lavernius…”

“Wash. _David_ ,” Tucker echoes, teasing him, but just a little, and extends a hand across the gap between them, groans as it pulls on his bandaged abdomen, adjusts himself and tries again.

Wash reaches out a hand to meet his halfway. Just barely and they can’t quite get a good grip but their fingers link together and Wash manages a smile. “We gotta talk, huh.”

“Lil bit,” Tucker says.

“We will,” Wash says, his voice a little stronger. “It’s about time.”

Tucker squeezes Wash’s hand as best he can, and though everything still hurts like hell, he isn’t scared anymore. Funny how even here where they can barely touch each other he feels closer than they’ve ever been. “Yeah. I’ll say.”


End file.
